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what is it?”

“Those overalls? You wear them every day.”

She laughs and I take the opportunity to move in, knowing I’ve got permission for my hands to wander where I’ve imagined them being for weeks.

But she places her hand on my chest and leans back. “First, we have to clean this apartment.”

I grab her hand. “Wrong. Tonight you’re in my bed, and tomorrow we clean this apartment.”

She doesn’t fight me, thank fuck. Jed is still out, and Adam is probably asleep already. Fisher’s truck isn’t here. I can get her into my room without anyone knowing.

“We’re moving kind of fast,” she says behind me when we hit the stairs.

“I’ve wanted you for weeks and now you’re giving me the green light.” Did I seriously just admit that to her? Oh well.

We walk through the back door that opens into the kitchen and we’re one step up on the stairs when “My Girl” by the Temptations plays from Adam’s room.

“What the hell?” I mutter.

She laughs behind me and I look back at her. “Inside joke between me and Adam.”

That doesn’t work for me.

I get her in my bedroom and shut the door. “I really don’t like you having inside jokes with my brother.”

She ignores my comment and looks around my childhood bedroom. I haven’t done a whole lot to it. Sure, the shit from high school is all packed away, so I’m not embarrassed by trophies or a prom king sash—with mine and Reese’s names on it—hanging from my corkboard. But she picks up a bottle of cologne I borrowed from Jed weeks ago and wiggles her nose, setting it back down.

I come up behind her, pushing her hair to one side, and lean down to kiss her neck. She stills until my lips meet bare skin, then she relaxes under my lips. Her arm snakes behind us and runs along my ass.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she says softly.

I spin her around and she wraps her arms around my neck. “Are you kidding me? This is the best idea I’ve ever had.”

She rises on her toes and I bend my neck until our lips meet. How could she deny this? Everything about this feels right when my lips are on hers.

I wrap an arm around her waist and press her to me. My other hand cradles her cheek and I kiss her jawline and down her throat. She moans and I rise up to swallow her moan as if I’m in high school and my dad is about to come up here. But if we’re going to keep this secret, we can’t be too loud.

I pull away, torturing myself and her, lock the door, and turn on my television. It’s on ESPN, not that I give a shit what’s on.

Leading her to my bed, I sit on the edge and bring her in front of me, between my legs, then undo the button of her jeans. “This okay?”

Her answer is to grab the hem of her shirt and pull it off, leaving me with the sight of her tits nestled in a dark gray bra. I lower her zipper and push her jeans down her shapely legs. She steps back, kicks off her shoes, then takes off her socks and her jeans, until she’s completely naked except for a matching bra and panty set.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” I lean in and press a kiss to her stomach.

“Your turn,” she says, stepping forward.

I kick off my shoes. “Come sit on my lap.”

“Are you pretending to be Santa?” she asks.

I chuckle, happy she’s not self-conscious about our first time. At least she doesn’t appear to be.

“Sure, what do you want for Christmas this year, young lady?” I am somehow able to get the words out without laughing.

“A lollipop?” She bursts out laughing.

“Only if you’re able to lick it all,” I say.

She’s shaking her head, her forehead falling to my shoulder. “I can’t.”

I grab her chin with my finger and thumb and press my lips to hers. Her arms wrap around my neck and my fingers graze up her inner thigh before massaging her clit through her panties. She leans back and releases a breathy sigh.

My fingers wrap around the edge of her wet panties and I slide the fabric over.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Her head snaps up as though getting caught means we’d go to jail rather than just be outed by one of my brothers.

“Cade!” Fisher screams.

“Give me a second,” I say to Presley, trying to keep my frustration in check.

She scrambles off my lap to grab her clothes.

If I had to trust any brother with my secret, it would be Fisher, but since I don’t think Presley has ever met him, it’s probably not a good time. I lower the volume on my television, unlock the door, and slide out.

Fisher’s standing in the hallway, and he turns on the hallway light as though he’s about to interrogate me.

“What?”

“Who’s in there?” he asks and crosses his arms.

“None of your business.”

“Whatever. I don’t give two shits who you fuck. But we have a problem.”

“What is it?”

“Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” by Marvin Gaye plays from Adam’s room.

“What the hell is that?” Fisher asks.

“I have no idea. It’s been Motown all night.”

“And let me guess, it got you and your lady friend all horny?”

“Lady friend? Has all that ink from Smokin’ Guns finally poisoned your brain?”

Most of us have tattoos, but Fisher’s taken it to another level. I’m not saying they aren’t cool. Liam at Smokin’ Guns in Lake Starlight does a bang-up job, but when you look at Fisher’s upper body, you’d never guess the guy was the sheriff of Sunrise Bay.

Fisher waves me off. “The lights above the garage are on, so I went up there to investigate. I think we have a squatter.”

“Yeah, I know who the squatter is. It’s fine.” I turn and put my hand on the doorknob to go back into my room.

“Well, she has sexy lingerie.”

I spin back around. “You searched her belongings?” I ask a little

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